And I go back to those moments
When all movement fades
When my eyes can't move from your intent gaze.
And everything is said with a soft reverence.

And all the joys of coming out of the bleak
The little slips between the sheets
The cracks in the citric sky
Blaze in with a rush of drunken dawn.

I can drone in and out
With all the other worker bees
And bumble around the swift weekends
You make the grind an easy tease.


I rush to please and scoop these evenings
Always looking for a longer morning
Where I can relive all these flighty snaps
And linger longer all senses burning.